


And there’s the whole college fencing club thing

by Taeyn



Series: I wouldn’t date him in 10,000 years [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Insecurities, Kissing, Lancelot - Freeform, Lotor Week 2017, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Protectiveness, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taeyn/pseuds/Taeyn
Summary: “Don’t worry,” says Lance, gives Hunk a reassuring nudge with his shoulder. “Keith was state fencing champion back in high school. For fencing-types, this is like a bonding moment.”Lance smiles, gives Lotor and Keith an encouraging thumbs-up. His eyebrows disappear toward his hairline a second later, when Keith charges forward screaming, swoops his blade in a lightning-fast arc, the point barely missing Lotor’s chest.“Or not-!” Lance says quickly, his mouth dropping open as Lotor hisses and returns a vicious lunge, Keith swerving and striking toward Lotor’s waist. “Oor they actually want to kill each other!”





	And there’s the whole college fencing club thing

**Author's Note:**

> so the end of Lotor week was the 31st and here I am just finishing my day 3 installment (prompt: prowess), welp… :’33 but here we go, this gets pretty fluffy and is very much a lancelot moment, just so you know… <3

“Do you think I was too clingy?” Lance asks quietly, Hunk and Pidge are only several paces behind. “I text, like, a _lot_. And send selfies. And just… random kittens? And I called him baby. Like it was just in a text, but he never said anything about it…? Wait, d’you think Lotor’s allergic to cats? Oh jeepers, it was _way_ too soon for baby, we haven’t even had our first kiss-”

“What do you mean, you _were_ too clingy?” Keith snaps, he’s glaring at the ground, his voice curt and tense. “Last time I checked, which was basically an hour ago when a metric tonne of chocolate-coated fruit _carved into the shape of the_ _Arc de Triomphe_ arrived on our doorstep… yeah, I think he’s still into you, Lance.”

“I don’t know,” Lance says miserably, and he wishes Keith didn’t sound quite so frustrated, because the next part’s even harder to say. “That’s just… him, you know? But like, the smaller things have changed.”

Keith crosses his arms tighter over his chest, he’s walking so briskly that Lance nearly has to jog to keep up.

“Like, he used to try and run into us at that fresh-squeezed juice bar Hunk likes? He always said it was an accident, but I _know_ his noon lecture finishes at the other side of campus. He would’ve had to run.”

“Maybe liquid green goo just isn’t Lotor’s jam,” says Keith, throws a pointed look to Hunk, who clutches his heart in mock offense, then winks.

“No no no, superfoods are very much Lotor’s jam,” says Lance, he gives a worried laugh and knots his hands in his sleeves. “And like, we never see him at the training centre now? Remember how he kept offering to spot you on weights?”

Keith slows his pace a fraction, his eyebrows pinch for a second.

“And there’s the whole college fencing club thing. Apparently you pretty much need a royal decree to join, but the next time I check, all our names are on the books? But when we actually turn up-”

“Yes, he didn’t show,” Keith interrupts, comes to such a sharp halt that Pidge almost collides with the back of him. “I know, Lance, I was there. What else do you want me to tell you?”

Lance winces, then straightens, takes a breath.

“I want you to tell me the truth,” he whispers, surprised when his voice doesn’t tremble. “Do you actually hate him? Because I think that’s the impression he’s starting to get.”

Lance swallows in the second that follows, wonders if he’s asking this all wrong. Instead of throwing out his arms and yelling _oh finally, YES!_ , Keith’s gaze has slowly dropped to Lance’s boots, his cheekbones vaguely flushed from the cold.

“The impression he’s _starting_ to get…?” Keith mutters, in that quiet, half-hopeful tone that he uses when he’s trying to lighten the mood. “I obviously need to try a bit harder.”

“No, but really,” Lance says softly, and he places both hands on Keith’s shoulders, dips his knees so Keith will look at him. “Do you really hate Lotor?”

Keith’s mouth snares on a grimace, something dark and pained flashes across his eyes.

“I’d do anything to make this better,” Lance mumbles. _If you’d just tell me what it is._

Keith flinches his head, he grits his jaw as his eyes go watery.

“No,” he says softly, his voice harsh and husky, strangely low. “I don’t hate him, Lance.”

Lance steps back a little as Keith sucks a breath through his teeth, unreadable. Then, Keith moves his hand, his grip firm and determined as he takes Lance by the wrist.

“Let’s go,” says Keith, and he abruptly detours in the opposite direction, Lance’s arm stretched in front of him as he nearly doesn’t realise they’re walking again.

“Oh, wah- go where-?” Lance blurts, his eyes widening toward Hunk and Pidge as they look just as surprised.

“Um, guys, class is this way!” calls Hunk, he’s left pointing in midair as Pidge jogs to catch up.

“We’re not going to class!” Keith yells back, his stride quickening.

“Are… we getting fresh-squeezed juice?” Hunk hollers again, and for a moment Lance really _really_ hopes not, because though that’s the direction they’re headed, there’s only so much that can be resolved with-

“No!” Keith shouts, and Pidge sprints back to Hunk, grabs the front of his vest and drags him right along after. Keith squeezes Lance’s wrist one last time, turns the corner before anyone can answer.

“We’re going fencing,” he mutters.

-

“Lotor!” says Keith, and his voice echoes across the courtyard. The college fencing club is in the middle of practice, Lotor’s four teammates facing each other in pairs. Far from the traditional white of the club, their uniform is dark charcoal, the panels crested with flares of peach and blue. Lotor’s shoulders look broad and tapered as he turns to face them, white hair spilling over his shoulders as he removes his protective headguard.

“Keith Kogane,” Lotor says, pronounces each syllable as if testing the sound of it. His eyes narrow in curiosity as Keith storms across the lawn. “What a pleasure.”

Lance is right behind, he stumbles and then jogs even faster. Lotor sweeps past Keith to meet him, wraps both arms around Lance’s back.

“And this is _actually_ a pleasure,” Lotor says softly, the tips of his ears are cold as he tucks his face into Lance’s neck for a hug. Lance returns the embrace, he’s about to laugh and say it was Keith’s crazy idea, when Lotor gives a lopsided smile, his expression genuinely touched.

“Oh,” Lance whispers. He’s not nearly so good with words, and before he can find them, Keith’s already at his side.

“Lotor,” Keith says again, and Lotor straightens, peers down. Keith hasn’t exactly been friendly in recent weeks, but Lance isn’t used to seeing Lotor on the defensive either.

“I accept your invitation,” Keith finishes, and he takes off his backpack and jacket, clenches his fists as he widens his stance. “You put our names down for fencing club. So let’s fence.”

Behind them, Lotor’s friends have slowly gathered, their faces a mix of interest and a vague, nefarious sort of glee. Hunk and Pidge move to Lance’s side, Pidge clearing her throat in a yes-but-okay-but- _no_ kind of way.

“Keith, this might not be such a good idea,” Pidge says hopefully, which is true, but Lance figures Keith’s already guessed. “Our safety gear’s back at the dorm.”

Lotor smiles, the bridge of his nose crumpling and his eyes strangely bright. He drops his headguard at Keith’s feet, unclips his chest and shoulder plates with something close to amusement.

“Take mine,” he says silkily, his upper lip twitches as he hands Keith his sabre blade. “You’ll be the one who needs it.”

“Oh super, a friendly sparring session between friends!” Hunk pipes up nervously, grabs Keith’s bag and jacket as Lotor’s team spread out in a half-circle, watching.

Keith kicks the protective equipment aside, tests the weight of the blade in both hands. Lotor lazily holds out his hand for another sword.

“Don’t worry,” says Lance, gives Hunk a reassuring nudge with his shoulder. “Keith was state fencing champion back in high school. For fencing-types, this is like a bonding moment.”

Lance smiles, gives Lotor and Keith an encouraging thumbs-up. His eyebrows disappear toward his hairline a second later, when Keith charges forward screaming, swoops his blade in a lightning-fast arc, the point barely missing Lotor’s chest.

“Or not-!” Lance says quickly, his mouth dropping open as Lotor hisses and returns a vicious thrust, Keith swerving and striking toward Lotor’s waist. “Oor they actually want to kill each other!”

“Not to dampen the fighting spirit, but this is definitely _not_ in the code of conduct,” says Pidge, furiously swiping through the text on her phone as Lotor spins his blade over his head, Keith ducking and twisting his sword below Lotor’s arm. There’s a split down Lotor’s shirt as Lotor whips away, then aims a flying high kick toward Keith’s shoulder, Keith feinting to one side as he tries to disarm Lotor with a heel to his wrist.

“-Mixed-martial-fencing?” Hunk blurts, his eyes darting back and forth. Lotor and Keith hit the ground, Lotor unbalanced for a moment before he springs back to his feet. “Is that a thing? I don’t think it’s a thing!”

“ _Aauhgh!_ ” Keith yells, Lotor has him standing again, their faces inches apart and swords crossed in-between. Keith’s panting, hair plastered across his brow.

“Not bad,” Lotor murmurs, but his voice is strained, he’s pushing just as hard.

“Not even started,” Keith snaps under his breath, his eyes refocus as Lotor brims to a smile. They pull away, Lotor’s posture light and poised, Keith swaps his blade into his other hand. Lotor’s friends are screaming words of encouragement, and though Lotor doesn’t seem to be listening, Lance can’t help feel all the one-sided cheering isn’t fair.

“You can do this, Keith!” Lance calls, grins as he catches Keith’s eye. For a moment Lotor freezes, then swallows, his mouth tugs down at the corners as his team fall abruptly silent.

And then he lunges, jaw clenched and chest taut, his sword hooks under Keith’s and sends it spinning across the ground. Keith reaches and trips, falls flat on his back as Lotor leaps over him, the tip of his blade hovered at Keith’s throat. Keith glares at him fiercely, then closes his eyes in defeat.

“Well done,” Lotor says quietly, nods. “I hardly expected you to last this long.”

Lotor sets down his weapon, his shoulders sink a fraction as he turns abruptly away. Lance is meanwhile running forward, he throws both arms around Lotor’s middle and pins Lotor’s arms to his side.

“Mmph-” says Lotor, a shot of air squeezes from his lungs he looks down. Lance is hugging him like they’ll never get another chance.

“Shoot, that was awesome!” Lance yelps, for a moment he feels proud enough to try and lift Lotor from the ground. When Lotor’s too heavy to even lift an inch, Lance settles for a tighter cuddle, he doesn’t understand why Lotor’s looking so confused.

“What was?” Lotor mutters, coughs.

“You were! You both were!” Lance says enthusiastically. He figures Lotor might need to breathe at some point, so Lance lets go and reaches up instead, tucks back the strand of damp hair that keeps falling into Lotor’s eyes.

“...what’s wrong?” Lance whispers after a second, when Lotor doesn’t meet his gaze. From the corner of his eye, Lance can see Keith getting to his feet, his tone surprisingly even as Pidge and Hunk show him various unflattering photos of the match.

Lotor lowers his head, for a second he leans into Lance’s touch, eyes dark and liquid as he blinks.

“Do I actually have a chance here, Lance?” he murmurs, so low that Lance can barely catch it. “Because as much as don’t wish to admit it, I’d be quite hurt to realise I was simply no more than a pleasant and somewhat ill-advised distraction.”

Lotor squeezes his eyes, his exhale warm on Lance’s knuckles as he turns, presses a kiss to the inside of Lance’s palm.

“Oh my gosh,” mumbles Lance, his eyes watering as he wishes, wishes above all else, that just for this one time, he could know what to say so that he doesn’t mess it all up.

“ _Yes,_ ” Lance utters fiercely, and he closes his fists to each side of Lotor’s collar, Lotor glancing up in surprise. “You’re not a distraction, okay? You don’t need to impress me, or worry about my friends, or- anything. Whatever else happens, this- _us_ \- is just about you and me.”

Lotor’s eyes crease at the corners, it’s not quite a smile, but he stands less stiffly as Lance continues shaking him from the front of his suit.

“I mean it,” Lance says hoarsely, his voice has gone high and weird as Lotor’s expression softens. “Don’t make me get out my equally fancy and inappropriately-branded fencing suit to prove it, alright? ‘Cause I totally will.”

“I don’t doubt it,” says Lotor, and he tentatively raises his palm, cups the back of Lance’s hand in his own. “I’m sorry, Lance, I may have misjudged the situat-”

“I’m not done yet!” Lance sniffles, and Lotor breathes out a laugh, dips his chin to indicate he’ll shush.

“I’m not done yet,” Lance says again, quiet, and he stands up on tip-toe, gently cages both hands to Lotor’s face. He leans in, his fingers rough and shaky through Lotor’s hair, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. He feels his nose bump against Lotor’s cheek, skin cool and his mouth warm as Lance brushes his lips where Lotor’s have fallen ajar.

Lance kisses him, slowly at first, Lotor’s eyelids lower as he exhales a small, aching sound. Lance knows you’re supposed to _close_ your eyes, but he doesn’t, he watches Lotor’s eyebrows tip helplessly as Lance’s teeth graze his lower lip, hair spilling forward as he leans in. Lance holds him close, his mouth wet and stinging, his cheeks prickle warm as he feels Lotor shiver, another shy, clumsy sort of noise escaping his throat. And Lance knows it’s supposed to be _serious_ but he smiles, and then Lotor can’t help smiling back.

“You and me,” Lance whispers again, and he doesn’t look round to see if either group of friends are watching. “Got it?”

Lance threads his fingers over Lotor’s knuckles, Lotor’s fingers gently curl to squeeze his back.

“And... was it an okay first kiss?” Lance adds, laughs and gives a sheepish squint as he tries to make the question sound like a joke.

“Oh, _Lance_ ,” Lotor breathes, and he looks so taken aback that Lance almost laughs for real. And he probably would, if Lotor wasn’t lifting the clasp of their hands to his chest, an unfamiliar warmth to his cheeks as he tucks his head down, eyes narrowed in affection.

“At the risk of sounding _awfully_ cheesy,” Lotor tries, his accent all the more pronounced as he aims to sound less stern. “I think you’ll have to explain the whole thing to me all over again. Several times. Per day. At _least_.”

Lance grins, he’s blushing ridiculously and for once it actually feels okay.

“I kind of like cheesy,” Lance whispers, and Lotor laughs, leans down and embraces him.

“One last cheesy thing then,” says Lotor, and his mouth twitches to a small, uneven smile. He hugs tighter and leans ever so slightly back, Lance’s feet lifting easily from the ground.

“Oh man!” Lance yelps, laughing. “Not bad...”

“Not even started,” Lotor says guiltily, and the rest is a mumble as Lance kisses him again.

-

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading! :'> comments & kudos are always adored and appreciated, or [say hi to me on tumblr~!](http://sillyshiro.tumblr.com/) <3


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